<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>where you cast those stones you wear by but_seriously</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23911105">where you cast those stones you wear</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/but_seriously/pseuds/but_seriously'>but_seriously</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>until we get there [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Legacies (TV 2018), The Vampire Diaries (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff and Angst, and other such stuff, just silly teenaged shenanigans, so flangst, the whole gang is here!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 19:29:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>17,346</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23911105</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/but_seriously/pseuds/but_seriously</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Landon continues to stare at her blankly. “Sorry, there’s just this weird ringing in my ears. It sounds like you just asked me to be your boyfriend?”</p><p>/ or, the one where Caroline breathes down Lizzie's neck for her questionable dating choices (cough, Sebastian), and Lizzie comes up with a plan to clean her slate. Enter Landon.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Background Landon Kirby/Hope Mikaelson, Caroline Forbes/Klaus Mikaelson, Landon Kirby/Lizzie Saltzman</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>until we get there [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1686289</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>72</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>184</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. watch you rise up</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>two-shot! prompted on tumblr by @ishenwulf: <a href="https://suraiya.tumblr.com/post/616743488989577216/lizzielandon-i-think-im-the-first-girl-to">"Lizzie/Landon - "I think I'm the first girl to break a bed with a guy, without even having sex with him while doing so." (pls let them break a bunch of other stuff while actually having sex)"</a></p><p>you should probably thank ishi for forever stoking the fire of my shipping ire. without her i would not be thirsting for these freaks.</p><p>this is a two shot; i'm still in the middle of going through the second part, but it should be up in the next few days. decided to add this fic to my ongoing series of legacies x tvd x to shenanigans; you can treat it as part of the universe, just something happening in the background, or as full fledged headcanon.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>WHERE YOU CAST THOSE STONES YOU WEAR</p><p> </p><p>~</p><p> </p><p>PHASE I - II</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>“<em>There</em> you are.”</p><p>Lizzie’s smile is the fakest ass fake smile he’s ever seen, and he’s seen a lot of them.</p><p>It’s how she smiles when Wade asks her for donations to his Anime club. Or when Dr Saltzman caught all of them at the Old Mill trying to make moonshine (Kaleb’s idea). Her smiles are especially at their fakest when she wants to pull Hope away from him for some magical assistance to whatever trouble she’s managed to get herself—</p><p>—and Josie, and Alaric, Raf, MG, (himself, though she’ll never count him) and probably half the school along as well—</p><p>—that week. “<em>Just </em>the person I wanted to randomly bump into in study hall.”</p><p>“Really,” he deadpans, not believing her one bit.</p><p>He shifts his book just a little closer to his chest. He’s not <em>nervous</em>, but her energy is full of it sometimes, and sometimes it’s just energy personified that bounces off the calm he tries to fill his study hall with.</p><p>You know, where they’re supposed to study – in silence, preferably – but with Lizzie, there’s never much of silence.</p><p>It’s with a bit of a niggling discomfort that Landon realises he’s learned her tells: Lizzie can talk up a storm, always, but it’s in tense moments that she can’t seem to shut up. Not that he’d ever tell her to <em>shut up</em>; he doesn’t know why he always just wants to be <em>nice </em>to her, despite her printing out posters of VOTE ARTISANAL JAR OF MAYONNAISE FOR HOMECOMING KING last semester and sticking them all over school.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>—</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Well?” Lizzie prompts, clicking her tongue.</p><p>Landon’s just sitting there, and for all his humble bragging about being at the top of their classes he’s just… sitting there, with a look that tells her he’s not quite registering what she’s just said to him.</p><p>“I’m—I’m sorry?” he finally says.</p><p>Lizzie sighs loudly enough for the entire study hall to send glares their way. Landon attempts to tamp down on their aggression, but all Lizzie does is just sigh louder.</p><p><em>Sorry</em>, Landon mouths apologetically again, raising his hand at Wade, who looks close to crying over exam revision.</p><p>“Landon,” Lizzie says with finality.</p><p>“Lizzie,” Landon matches her tone. “I’m sorry, but you’re just going to have to repeat yourself.”</p><p>Murder is the only word that comes to mind with the glare she sends his way. But she decides to humour him.</p><p>“Wow, that’s so weird. I feel like I’m just mishearing you. Again, please—hey, I said <em>please</em>.”</p><p>Lizzie’s mouth moves around the words she’s telling him.</p><p>Landon continues to stare at her blankly. “Sorry, there’s just this weird ringing in my ears. It sounds like you just asked me to be your boyfriend?”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>—</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Elizabeth Jenna Saltzman.</p><p>Asking him, resident emo-boy, a marginally competent bird as she always ‘fondly’ calls him, to be her esteemed partner.</p><p>“Am I hearing this right?”</p><p>Lizzie hisses right through her teeth, “Do <em>not </em>insult me, you moderately competent bird.”</p><p>See?</p><p>He lifts his book as if to deflect the blow of her mighty glare. “Look, I’m not! I’m just – are you feeling alright? Been getting enough sleep?”</p><p>“Two weeks have passed since my mom’s come back, and I have thoroughly exhausted every single mother-daughter bonding activity ever, and she’s moved on from <em>Oh Lizzie, my favourite daughter, I’ve missed you so much</em> snuggling to <em>Who is this Sebastian your father keeps mentioning</em> lectures.” Lizzie adds flippantly: “I’m not vibing with it.”</p><p>“Sebastian?”</p><p>“Super sexy perma-teen vampire but a com<em>plete </em>misjudgement of character on my end.”</p><p>“And this isn’t?” Landon mumbles.</p><p>“I need to get my mother off my back, keep up.” Lizzie inches forward in her seat. The ends of her hair graze the table with how much she’s leaning towards him, making him look her in her wide, blue eyes. Always with the theatrics. “You’re just about at the exact opposite end of the Sebastian spectrum. Mopey, dependable, not <em>obviously </em>good looking, but your other qualities probably can make up for that. And you’re the kind of guy would probably wake up super early to get me a coffee and croissant before school, because that’s just how cheesy you are.”</p><p>“Thanks?”</p><p>“Don’t interrupt me. Anyway, it’s not just for my benefit either.”</p><p>“Somehow I find that hard to believe.”</p><p>Lizzie’s smile widens just a touch. “Heard your little crush on Hope just went up in flames.”</p><p>So is his face now, all puffed out and embarrassed. He lowers his voice and hisses, “How do you know about that?”</p><p>“Oh Landon. My sweet thrift store hobbit,” Lizzie sighs. “<em>Everyone </em>knows about it. You wear it like a badge of constant glumness. You didn’t speak to Jed for a whole <em>week</em> after he bought her a sandwich last week.”</p><p>“I could’ve bought her a sandwich too, big deal,” Landon mutters.</p><p>Lizzie raises a sharp finger and looks smug. “Ah, but you didn’t! See, my boy, you’ve got no <em>game</em>. Now imagine how much cooler your image would be if you were seen with resident popular girl,” she gestures to herself. “Your reputation would shoot up the ranks.”</p><p>“There are ranks?”</p><p>“Duh,” Lizzie says like it’s the most obvious thing. “And you, being a phoenix without actually possessing any unique phoenix qualities other than resurrecting – ”</p><p>“That’s not unique enough?”</p><p>“—looking like a pale artichoke in gym class doesn’t help, either. I am your salvation!” Lizzie finishes, hands on her hips and jaw raised like she’s standing centre-stage at their annual talent competition.</p><p>Landon narrows his eyes. “You think people will like me more if it looks like I’m dating you?”</p><p>“Now we’re getting somewhere. Move a little.” She takes a seat next to him gracefully, tucking her skirt under her thighs. “Listen. I need my mom to stop breathing down my neck. She’s been looking at me like she wants to give me the birds and the bees talk, with visual aid, flash cards and mini-theatre and I’d rather not go through that again. Once was more than enough. Pretty sure Dad wants her to exact power over my social life, since he doesn’t really have any say in that, and I’m looking at two semesters of constant surveillance. Or a twelve-step programme. <em>And</em> Professor M isn’t helping either—”</p><p>Landon shuts his book. “How does Professor M know about your love life?”</p><p>“Everyone knows about my love life, Landon. I’m <em>interesting</em>.” She rests an unwilling hand on his shoulder with a grimace. “And soon you will be too.”</p><p>“Because I’ll be dating you.”</p><p>“Fake dating,” Lizzie corrects primly.</p><p>“And you think Hope will like me, even though I’ll be unavailable?”</p><p>“There’s something to be said about wanting the unattainable, Landon. And trust me, you will be unattainable once you’re standing by my side.”</p><p>“Yeah, because everyone will think I’m <em>nuts</em>.”</p><p>“I resent that. Say yes.”</p><p>“Lizzie, I—” a panicked, helpless sort of look crosses Landon’s face. “This is really dishonest; I don’t think we should be…”</p><p>“Let me do the thinking for both of us, alright Little Bird?” Lizzie snips. “Getting back in my parents’ good books, the teachers off my backs for any sort of inevitable breakdown, and <em>you… </em>get to be Professor M’s potential son-in-law one day.”</p><p>“This is extremely coercive, you know,” Landon points out, but the protest is feeble at best. “And making me really uncomfortable. <em>Nobody</em> will buy it.”</p><p>“We’ll just have to put on a really good show,” she swears. “Say <em>yes</em>.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>—</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Two things happen the next two days:</p><p>Landon attempts to say hi to Hope, who looks right through him to greet MG a good morning.</p><p>During lunch break, by some kind of miracle, he joins Hope and Lizzie for lunch just in time to hear Hope say, “You were right about the bio homework, by the way. Your ideas aren’t that bad, Saltzman.”</p><p>Lizzie cocks an eyebrow at Landon. “Welcome, Kirby.”</p><p>“Oh, hey Landon,” Hope greets warmly.</p><p>Landon takes all of thirty seconds to make up his mind.</p><p>Lizzie’s phone vibrates in her bag. When she checks it, it’s from Landon.</p><p>Just one word.</p><p>
  <em>Yes.</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>—</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Every Friday evening, the rag tag group of upper-secondary students meet for some dumb study group Emma had made them all participate in, in an effort to like, ‘bond’ as ‘one’ ‘community’ or something.</p><p>It’s astonishing that all of them consistently make it every single week, but no one will admit it’s because they appreciate each other’s company. They’d chalked it up to Stockholm Syndrome.</p><p>It’s during one of these study groups that MG, having been not-so-discreetly been spying on Lizzie and Landon whilst they all parroted off chemical equations to each other, demands: “Why are you touching him?”</p><p>He’s probably been watching them really closely since the Bomb had Dropped.</p><p>Lizzie makes sure to have Josie walk into them in the courtyard one day with her hand placed very carefully on Landon’s thigh, and shocks her twin so much she goes running through the hallways until she bumps into Penelope, and blurts out the scene she just witnessed, swearing her to secrecy.</p><p>Penelope, of course, tells everyone else.</p><p>Lizzie pretends to fidget with the hem of her shirt. “Excuse you?”</p><p>MG narrows his eyes. “You just… keep putting your hand on Landon’s arm. <em>Willingly. </em>Why.”</p><p>“Haven’t you heard?” Penelope smirks, whilst Josie turns red and avoids Lizzie’s glare, “they’re the Salvatore School’s It Couple right now.”</p><p>“Fake news,” Jed coughs into his notes, and Kaleb guffaws.</p><p>Hope doesn’t do anything but watch the entire exchange with curious eyes.</p><p>“Look, Penelope, you don’t have to believe it,” Landon begins, but he’s making mopey eyes at Hope, so Lizzie decides to cut in.</p><p>“As devastated as I am to admit it, Frodo’s been growing on me,” Lizzie sighs, the vision of a woman distraught. “Who knew I was into nerd porn?”</p><p>MG’s ears might as well be whistling, and Jed’s cough sounds like a choke now.</p><p>“Girl, say what,” Kaleb says in one disbelieving breath. “Tell me you’re not serious. You okay? Been getting enough sleep? Is this a breakdown thing, ‘cause Emma said we have to like, show solidarity and help you <em>visualise your inner child </em>and shit—”</p><p>Lizzie smarts at that, just a little. Her lips part to shoot some of her automatic sass bullets, but surprisingly nothings comes out. Landon secretly puts his hand on her knee in a secret show of solidarity.</p><p>“Kaleb,” Josie says sharply. “People can change.”</p><p>Lizzie eyes Landon curiously. He shoots her a small smile, which she looks away from.</p><p>“Exactly,” Penelope nods, but she’s smirking in a way that says she doesn’t buy a single thing, and is enjoying every second of watching Landon squirm under everyone’s scrutiny. “Who’d you lose the bet to, Lizzie?”</p><p>Lizzie, despite herself, starts to feel annoyed. “I’ll have you know, <em>Penelope</em>, Landon isn’t the short end of an already short bunch of sticks—”</p><p>Landon tries to figure out the compliment there.</p><p>“Then – then prove it!” MG blurts out. “Kiss. If you’re really a couple, then – Kiss!”</p><p>That stops Lizzie short. “Milton. Ew.”</p><p>“Really gross, MG.” Hope shoots him a look of distaste.</p><p>“Voyeur much?” Penelope smirks.</p><p>“Nah, I’m with MG,” defends Kaleb. “This is really entertaining and all, but it’s kinda starting to weird me out. Suck his face. No way you’d do that willingly.”</p><p>“You’re all wrong,” Lizzie tells them politely. Or as politely as she can. Things are a-movin’ and she’s excited; she can already feel her legs tingling when she accidentally siphons some of Landon’s magic from his hand on her knee under the table. She swallows down the smugness in her voice, because this is exactly where she’d hoped the day would go. She turns to Landon, and wills him not to look so pale.</p><p>“Pucker up, ‘90s,” she coos.</p><p>Keeping her face as forced-smiley as possible she leans forward and gives Landon a peck on his lips. A small little one. A peck really, bird to bird.</p><p>Landon, to her discreet pleasure, kisses her back.</p><p>When they part their chaste, publicly-acceptable form of display, everyone is looking at them, shell-shocked.</p><p>Penelope steals Jed’s can of Coke just so she could do a spit-take.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>—</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“<em>That </em>plan worked out awesome. Score one to Saltzman,” Lizzie sighs victoriously as she plops down onto her bed. “Now on to Phase 2.”</p><p>“I really don’t want to know what Phase 2 is,” Landon mumbles. He’s got his arm slung over his eyes as he slumps three inches down into Lizzie’s plushy pink armchair.</p><p>“Phase 2 is Mom walking into us. She’s about to start baking downstairs. I know. It’s Tuesday. Ready?”</p><p>Slowly, Landon removes his arms. He stares at her. For like, a really long time. “What do you mean,” he widens his eyes, “by <em>walking into us</em>.”</p><p>Lizzie smiles deviously. Without warning, she lets out a very soft moan.</p><p>“Lizzie,” Landon hisses harshly.</p><p>“Yes, exactly, keep doing that,” Lizzie responds in a breathless voice, whilst she grins manically at him and flaps her hands, motioning for him to go louder.</p><p>“Lizzie,” Landon groans now, completely exasperated. “It’s barely been two days, I really doubt we’ll be having <em>sex </em>right now—”</p><p> “Yeah, keep talking dirty to me!” Lizzie all but bellows and jumps up on the bed, the mattress squeaking. She glares at Landon, who sighs, and very reluctantly joins her.</p><p>They jump up and down, and every so often Lizzie punches Landon in the arm so he lets out a believable grunt.</p><p>The mattress springs keep squeaking. Lizzie keeps up her panting.</p><p>After four more minutes of that, Landon’s a little out of breath, puts some spring in his jump, and lands in a pile of Lizzie’s haphazard pillows.</p><p>“Give it up, Lizzie,” he says, resuming his previous moping position of arm-over-eyes. “I think I pulled a muscle.”</p><p>“Sexy,” Lizzie says the way one might say ‘<em>rancid foot’</em>, but drops down next to him anyway. She stares at the ceiling, and they let out a long sigh.</p><p>After about another four minutes of moping, Lizzie turns to her side and swats Landon’s arm off his face. “Enough! Tomorrow night is another day.”</p><p>“That doesn’t even make sense,” he points out, before propping himself up on one elbow to face her. “About that kiss just now—”</p><p>“They totally bought it,” Lizzie can’t resist interrupting.</p><p>“You sure you okay with this?” he mumbles in that Landon way of his. He studies her face. She notes the dark circles framing his obsidian-blues.</p><p>“Getting cold feet already, Kirby?”</p><p>“No, it’s just that—”</p><p>Her door swings open. “Elizabeth, do you remember where your mum put the…”</p><p>Lizzie and Landon whip around to see a very livid Professor M, staring at them, at the space between them, at the sweat beading on Landon’s forehead, at Lizzie’s once-sleek French braid that has now shaken loose, at the two of them again, at the space between them, and once more at Landon.</p><p>“Professor Mika-Mikaels—” Landon squawks, turning white as a sheet.</p><p>The growl that emanates from Professor M seems to make the room tremble, and Landon all but stutters to a stop. Lizzie, however, is coming up sunflowers. She practically bounces to her knees and throws her hands up, eyes crinkling warmly, exclaiming, “What did you need of me, my beloved stepfather!”</p><p>“Well, darling, I was looking for your mother’s ridiculously expensive sea salt but now I’m looking for something else entirely,” he grits out through clenched teeth, despite being slightly mollified by Lizzie’s welcome.</p><p>“And that is?” Lizzie all but croons, making a very conscious move towards Landon. “We’re kind of in the middle of studying right now.”</p><p>“Banishing objects, hm? Your books are missing.”</p><p>“Invisique,” Lizzie sings in reply. Landon just wants her to shut the <em>fuck up, right now.</em></p><p>Landon’s head disappears, which is a good thing, because he looks like he’s holding in from puking his guts out, the way Klaus observes him like he’s a piece of meat.</p><p>“You’re the phoenix, yes?”</p><p>“Yes,” Landon says squeamishly.</p><p>“Alright,” Professor M seems to deliberate, before flashing over to Landon, grabbing him and throwing him out the room and right down the stairs.</p><p>“<em>Niklaus Mikaelson!”</em> comes her mom’s furious bellow.</p><p>“For FUCK’S SAKE, KLAUS!” She hears Dad yell. “WE JUST TALKED ABOUT THIS.”</p><p>Screams erupt, there’s a clattering of feet, and Lizzie falls out of bed in a perfect traumatised swoon, back of her hand rested delicately on her forehead. “Stepfather! Can we not with the dramatics!”</p><p>“We’re going to have a talk about this later,” he warns with a finger wagging her way, his undisguised rage making his accent thicker.</p><p>“I’ll miss you when you’re suspended again,” Lizzie pouts.</p><p>He groans, already hearing Mom’s boots stomping up the stairs. “As shall I, my sweet.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>—</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>At least Landon’s gotten used to resurrecting. Cause of death: the ire of Professor Klaus Mikaelson.</p><p>Lizzie’s waiting for him with a warm blanket when he starts to stir, her head facing the sky like she’s enjoying the sunset. Blinking groggily, he turns onto his stomach and rubs the back of his neck. He feels the weather-worn wood of the docks pressing into his face and he groans. That’s going to leave a mark.</p><p>“Welcome back,” Lizzie quips.</p><p>“Just because I can’t die doesn’t mean I wouldn’t appreciate some sympathy, Lizzie,” Landon mutters, throwing her a murderous look. “So what’s <em>your</em> damage.”</p><p>“Let’s see,” Lizzie says as she drapes the blanket over Landon’s crumpled heap of a body, face and all. “Two weeks of grounding. Mom suggested making it three weeks, but Dad intervened and said he’d rather us be on library duty instead for the rest of this semester.”</p><p>“Us?”</p><p>“Professor M also suggested throwing you out the window and have me try to levitate you before you hit the ground—”</p><p>“Jesus fucking Christ.”</p><p>“—but Mom was all <em>Oh, maybe that’s a little too harsh</em>,” Lizzie continues thoughtfully.</p><p>“A little?” Landon squeaks underneath the blue and white embroidered quilt. “Literally dying wasn’t enough?”</p><p>“But on the plus side, they were yelling so hard the entire school now knows we were caught post-doing the dirty.” Lizzie shoots him a grin. “On to Phase 3!”</p><p>“No!” Landon yells and clambers to his feet. “Lizzie, so far all your plans have kind of sucked for me, you know? How the <em>hell </em>is Hope supposed to like me now that she thinks I’ve <em>slept </em>with you!”</p><p>“Easy, lover boy,” Lizzie says, frowning. “This is the 21<sup>st</sup> century, she’s not a prude.”</p><p>“You don’t — you don’t know her like I do,” Landon says, burying his face in his hands and turning towards the water. “She’s not like y…”</p><p>He whirls around, hands already halfway lifting up like a gesture of apology but Lizzie’s already standing up, facing him squarely. Her eyes are narrowed as she takes him in coolly. “Not like?”</p><p>“Nevermind,” Landon says quickly. “Let’s grab some dinner, I’m starv—”</p><p>“Finish your fucking sentence, Frodo,” Lizzie says in a voice that is low and dangerous. Is it weird that he’s seeing some Klaus in the shadows of her face right now?</p><p>“Lizzie… let’s drop it.”</p><p>“No. Let’s hear you say it. Not like what? You were saying she’s not like <em>me</em>,” she hisses. Her fists are bunched into tight fists and he’s so <em>glad </em>she doesn’t have anything to syphon right now. He really hasn’t tried dying twice in the span of 12 hours.</p><p>“Look, I’m sorr—”</p><p>“Invisique,” she whispers.</p><p>“Lizzie!”</p><p>He hears the wooden boards squeak as she runs away, and when her feet hit grass there’s no telling where she might be.</p><p>“Fuck you, Landon!” he yells and heaves a rock into the water with a loud splash.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>—</p><p> </p><p>TBC</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. well bless my soul</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this chapter was. not. planned.<br/>this is now no longer a two-shot.<br/>there was supposed to be SMUT in this chapter!!!!<br/>i apologise.<br/>because i'm a seasoned writer of course i'm posting this new chapter up without reading through it first. how many times have i played myself like this? pls turn a blind eye to any/all typos.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>WHERE YOU CAST THOSE STONES YOU WEAR</p><p> </p><p>~</p><p> </p><p>PHASE III</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>You can hardly see the usually-reflective surface of the marble island kitchen counter for all the clutter. Measuring cups dusted with flour, half-buttered baking pans, the Christmas-only cookie cutters, cuts of baking paper, and three different batters in various stages of completion. Add to that many, many, many open bags of sugar – palm, white, demerara, coarse, powdered, caster – littered the surfaces behind the one-woman-baking-show going on in the kitchen.</p><p>The woman in question was his wife, who looked close to punching a hole right crack in the middle of the bowl she’s kneading dough in.</p><p>Caroline blows an errant blonde curl away from her forehead, which is streaked with flour. “Are you going to stare at me or are you going to pick up some slack around here?”</p><p>“Wouldn’t dream of interrupting your self-care ritual, love,” he grins, admiring the way her face contorts into one of annoyance. She goes back to her kneading, and he goes to her.</p><p>“Can I venture a guess as to why you’re stress-baking?” Klaus buries his face against the back of her hair and breathes deeply the scent of sweet figs, brown sugar and Caroline.</p><p>“Oh I don’t know, I guess I’m just being silly,” Caroline sighs into his embrace.</p><p>“You often are, love,” Klaus hums, his nose moving through her curls to her ear. “All is well on this side of paradise.”</p><p>“It’s true, nothing but sea breeze.” Caroline says as she turns to him. She smiles a soft smile that’s usually reserved just for him, and runs a light finger down his throat. There’s probably dough there now but he doesn’t care, not with the way she’s <em>gazing</em> <em>so adoringly </em>at him. “You’re always so right, Klaus…” What he likes to hear, “unless of course you’re forgetting several crucial items.”</p><p>Her finger pokes into his throat.</p><p>Klaus groans. He should’ve known. He should’ve known she was being too pliant, too agreeable. He tenses himself for the chastising to start, in three… <em>two</em>…</p><p>“<em>When were you going to tell me all of the students’ lives were in danger here?”</em> she shrills right in his face.</p><p>There she is.</p><p>“Sweetheart,” he begins, quickly shuffling through the deck of expositions he’d prepared beforehand, just in case – <em>Love, I can explain – We had it under control, darling – We haven’t lost a body yet, dearest—</em></p><p>Before spotting Alaric lingering just behind the arch of the open kitchen.</p><p>He growls.</p><p>“Really, Klaus? Do you <em>really </em>have to ask?” Caroline yells, and he takes one fearful step back. “A monster loose in this town is now a weekly occurrence? Apparently Lizzie has been hallucinating? Josie is trifling with dark magic? And Hope is failing Calculus? CALCULUS, Klaus?”</p><p>“One of those is not like the other.”</p><p>“Not to mention months and months of research and excavations and seeking out old witch bloodlines and being away from the girls for <em>so long </em>only for it to be completely fruitless! I’m gone not even a year and you and Alaric have the kids re-enacting Buffy!?”</p><p>He should’ve <em>known </em>Alaric would throw him under the bus. He raises his voice slightly, signaling to the Professor, “I should have broken more than just your leg, Saltzman.”</p><p>Alaric sighs, and wheels himself into the room. He and Klaus had sparred last week. Klaus had allowed Alaric the use of vervain-soaked weaponry, but alas. “Despite your preconceived notions about me, no, I did not tell my partner and co-Headmistress the absolutely vital going-ons of our school.”</p><p>Klaus raises his eyebrows at Caroline, who returns his stare coolly. “I have my ways.”</p><p>Klaus waits. So does Alaric.</p><p>A corner of Caroline’s lips quirk. “My extensive network of spies.”</p><p>“Funny,” Klaus retorts in a way that implies he doesn’t think it funny at all, “as my extensive network of spies have already taken out <em>your </em>extensive network of spies.”</p><p>“Then it would be counterproductive of me to dub my network <em>extensive,</em> if they could so easily be disassembled by yours?”</p><p>Alaric gapes at them, appalled. “You guys put spies in my school?”</p><p>“<em>Our </em>school,” Caroline is snappy to correct the same time Klaus says “HER school,” his teeth bared.</p><p>“And no, we did not ‘put’ spies in this school,” Caroline corrects primly.</p><p>“Sweet Jesus,” Alaric’s sigh is mighty and exasperated, “you <em>groomed </em>spies in m—<em>our</em> school?”</p><p>“Only in the barest sense,” Klaus shrugs. “Good on you for finally noticing though.” Klaus seems to have (at Caroline’s stern request) really practised his Encouraging Teacher voice. It barely sounds sarcastic anymore. That made Alaric’s eyes twitch for some reason.</p><p>“But seriously sweetheart, how did you come to find out?”</p><p>Caroline rolls her eyes. “Penelope told me.”</p><p>Both Alaric and Klaus narrow their eyes, already figuring out how much homework to give her the next week. It was amazing, really, how they could have such mutual understandings.</p><p>“I’ve only been back two weeks and it’s worst than the three months I had to spend in Peru with <em>Kol</em>,” Caroline says. “I thought you two said you had things ‘handled’?”</p><p>“Don’t air quote love, it’s beneath you – and that’s why I came, remember? To help you run the school?”</p><p>“Well, seeing as Caroline’s now back, isn’t it time you skedaddled back to New Orleans?” Alaric asks tightly.</p><p>“Mate, I’ve been here for sixteen years.”</p><p>“Sixteen years too long, I’d sa—”</p><p>Klaus suddenly goes very, very still. Alaric glares at Klaus’ raised finger silencing him.</p><p>“What?” Caroline’s blue eyes widens and follows the trail of his eyes upwards to the ceiling, where their daughters’ rooms are.</p><p>Caroline’s perks her vampire ears just in time to hear: “…<em>I think I pulled a muscle,” </em>murmured a distinctly male voice.</p><p>“<em>Sexy,” </em>says a distinctly Lizzie voice.</p><p>The sound Klaus makes is one neither Caroline nor Alaric have heard in a very long time.</p><p>“Sweet baby Jesus,” Caroline says in one long exhalation.</p><p>“What?” Alaric demands. “What’s going on?” He’s not that intimidating in a wheelchair, unfortunately.</p><p>“Whatever you do,” Caroline grabs Klaus’ arm, “do <em>not </em>hurt him.”</p><p>“Oh, hell no…” Alaric says slowly, understanding.</p><p>It’s difficult to tell who sees red the most – Caroline, Klaus or Alaric. It’s not a competition though. They’re adults, competent ones, and more importantly, they had the shared responsibility of being parents to not just Hope, Lizzie and Josie, but to the entire school. They were adults <em>first </em>which was why Caroline kept a bingo sheet for all of them, determined to be the best parent in the room. She’d even gone so far as to mail one of the sheets to Hayley, who just texts her back a picture of a pile of torn up paper, with her middle finger in the frame.</p><p>Caroline decides that out of all of them, she must be the most distraught, and crosses that off on her bingo sheet. Klaus and Alaric surreptitiously do the same.</p><p>The next order of business was of course to get rid of the threat.</p><p>Alaric is already trying to wheel out of the room, but Caroline tosses a heavy bag of flour, blocking one of his wheels. She turns back to Klaus and says even more insistently, “I mean it Klaus. <em>Do not hurt him</em>.”</p><p>“Then why am I going up there?” he hisses. “Make the gimp do it then!”</p><p>“Fuck you,” Alaric hisses.</p><p>“Alaric is in a wheelchair. <em>You</em> put the fear of Cade in those kids!” Caroline hisses.</p><p>“So do <em>you!</em>” he hisses back.</p><p>“You can’t be trusted,” Caroline finally confesses with a sharp breath through her nose, “with the oven settings. I have to be here to check on the biscuits. But I am putting my trust in <em>you </em>to do what is right.”</p><p>“Fine,” he grits back.</p><p>“Get an excuse ready and barge in there!”</p><p>“FINE!” Muttering wordlessly at his wife, he flashes up the stairs.</p><p>It’s not even three minutes later that Jed and Kaleb have to help carry Landon’s temporarily lifeless body out.</p><p>“You do realise he’s already been suspended once this semester, right?” Alaric points out as Caroline fumes.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>—</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Klaus sleeps on the couch that night.</p><p>Hope snickers into her palm and joins her father where he’s brooding, eyes unseeingly watching a rerun of <em>Bojack Horseman</em>. “Did you really have to kill him, Dad?”</p><p>“Nobody should be touching you or your sisters,” he says plaintively.</p><p>“I don’t really know him that well,” Hope says, stealing his popcorn. “But he always seemed like a really nice guy? If not a little quiet.”</p><p>“It’s always the quiet ones.” Klaus voice spells out murder.</p><p>“I’m home!” Josie calls as she shuts the door behind her. “Ooh, Netflix night? Don’t mind if I do.” She nudges Hope aside with her knee and plops down behind them. “Hey Mom, why is Klaus in trouble?”</p><p>“Oh, you didn’t hear?” Caroline breezes into the room, grabbing the gourmet granola bar out of Klaus’ hands and biting into it. “He committed murder today.”</p><p>“How’d you know Landon was a phoenix, anyway?” Josie asks.</p><p>“I asked him first.”</p><p>“Oh, you checked first?” Hope snuggles to her father’s side looking pleased. “That’s growth, dad.”</p><p>Klaus shoots Caroline a triumphant look, and she responds by shoving the rest of <em>his </em>granola bar into her mouth.</p><p>They settle down to watch the rest of the episode, but Klaus isn’t really paying attention.</p><p>“Bit simpering, isn’t he?” Klaus muses.</p><p>“I mean, he’s not exactly like, <em>macho man </em>type. Not exactly <em>Lizzie’s </em>type,” Josie ventures thoughtfully. “But he’s nice. Broody. Really smart.”</p><p>“Always writing or doodling in his journal or whatever …” Hope frowns in recollection.</p><p>“Oh, he can play the guitar!”</p><p>“His hair has a heroic quality about it,” Hope adds, and Josie makes a sound of agreement.</p><p>“I can see the appeal,” Caroline laughs quietly.</p><p>Klaus freezes. “Do you girls want some milk?”</p><p>“No, we’re go—”</p><p>“I’m going to get you some milk.” Klaus promptly leaves the den.</p><p>“What’s up with him?” Josie asks her mother, who just sighs.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>—</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The next day comes much too soon for Lizzie. She lies on her back, breathing in and out slowly, wondering why her alarm was blaring a full hour earlier than it usually would.</p><p>She squints at her screen and reads: LIBRARY W/NERD</p><p>The events of yesterday falls on her like a pile of bricks. Her fingers grip her bedsheets of their own volition and she has to fight back the urge to vomit. She shouldn’t care what that stupid gangly mopheaded bird thinks of her.</p><p>She <em>doesn’t</em>.</p><p>But she thinks of the way his lips had formed around Hope’s name. So reverently, like he was afraid of calling her name too loud, like it was something delicate to behold. And then she thinks of the way he’d said <em>her </em>name.</p><p>Maybe it hurt because while they were comfortable exchanging barbs – not that his could ever be considered a barb, he’d always been much too compliant of her… but maybe that was the thing. Landon’s always compliant. He’s always game to let her shove him around.</p><p>Until it comes to Hope, obvs.</p><p>Anger floods her again. She has to convince herself it was anger, and not, you know. The alternative, which was j—</p><p>Okay, she’s so not ready to open that can of worms.</p><p>When Lizzie’s finished getting dressed, she clatters down the stairs Landon had died on (ha), yells a quick goodbye to Mom and Professor M (they both tell her to <em>behave </em>and she rolls her eyes<em>) </em>and leaves her house to find Landon standing by their mailbox, looking uncomfortable and holding up a brown paper bag.</p><p>She eyes it like he’d just shown her his pet cockroach.</p><p>“Croissants and coffee?” Landon shakes the bag.</p><p>“I’m on the Keto programme,” Lizzie tells him snootily before shouldering her way past him.</p><p>“Right,” Landon says slowly, not exactly knowing what she means</p><p>She walks faster down the pathway, waving and chirping back <em>good morning! </em>to people as she goes.</p><p>Long-legs Landon catches up easily. “So no croissant?”</p><p>“I know your aversion to anything cool means you don’t quiet get social cues, but this,” she points at her feet which only gain pace, “means <em>no </em>croissant, and <em>no </em>mopheads ruining my morning!”</p><p>She’s tempted to run, but she doesn’t want to ruin her carefully-curled ‘do. Last night she’d opted to sleep in her room at the Forbes-Saltzman-Mikaelson home in a corner of the vast green instead of her dorm room thinking it’d be easier to avoid Sad Eyes Landon, but evidently she was wrong. Idly she thinks they must look pretty stupid, fast-walking the distance to school. All they’re missing is the lycra and neon armbands.</p><p>“Look, I just wanted to apologise – it was completely uncalled for, but I was <em>ups—”</em></p><p>“My dad says any apology that comes before a ‘but’ is bullshit.”</p><p>“Lizzie, Professor M <em>broke my spine</em>.”</p><p>The toe of her shoe digs into grass and dirt when she promptly does an about face. “Not EVERYTHING is about you, LANDON. Make like a tree and leave!”</p><p>Predictably, Landon doesn’t.</p><p>Landon sighs. “Lizzie, I’m sorry. I don’t know how to make it better. <em>Not</em> by leaving you alone," he adds quickly at the look on her face.</p><p>“I really don’t have time for this, Egg Mayo. You’re making us late for our <em>detention</em>,” Lizzie says, gagging, and Landon has to smile a little at that.</p><p>“How about I settle your side of the library and you can just sit in a corner and plot evil against Penelope, or whatever it is you like to do?” Landon asks hopefully. “And then we’ll call it even?”</p><p>Lizzie actually looks curious. “For the rest of the semester?”</p><p>“For the rest of the week.”</p><p>She imagines it: Landon groaning underneath a pile of books she’s just Accio’d from the shelves and smiles. If Landon gulps that’s his problem.</p><p>“Two weeks,” she says.</p><p>Landon frowns. “One.”</p><p>Lizzie smiles wickedly. She doesn’t realise she’s leaning on the toes of her shoes. “Four.”</p><p>Landon himself steps a bit closer. “How about two?”</p><p>“I’m thinking six weeks now.”</p><p>He groans. “Lizzie…”</p><p>“My, my, aren’t we cozy?”</p><p>Lizzie freezes. Landon looks around to see what’s gotten her looking so wounded, and she has the strangest urge to tell him <em>no</em>, to pull his head back.</p><p>Too late.</p><p>Sebastian is leaning against the stone railings that surround the Salvatore School. She notes with despair that he looks devastatingly handsome in his dark button down.</p><p>The viper-like scrutiny in the way Sebastian catalogues them immediately sets Lizzie on edge. If the stiffening of Landon’s shoulders is any indication, he feels it too. He takes half a step forward almost subconsciously, like he’s shielding Lizzie from the brunt of Sebastian’s smirk. The idea of Landon thinking he could protect her from Sebastian is laughable, but in that moment all she can feel is a twinge of relief.</p><p>Landon reaches for her hand.</p><p>“Morning, Seb,” Landon says mildly.</p><p>“<em>Stop sounding so nervous</em>,” Lizzie hisses in his ear.</p><p>Goosebumps flare across the back of his neck.</p><p>“<em>Stop hissing in my ear</em>,” he shoots back.</p><p>“Are you two whispering about me?” Sebastian whispers, suddenly behind them.</p><p>“I was actually telling Landon, my boyfriend, how hot he looks this morning,” Lizzie says snidely. “Is privacy in your vocabulary or is that some new age thing?”</p><p>Sebastian ignores her half-hearted jab in favour of giving Landon a dressing down that she supposes is supposed to be emasculating. His smile is vicious, and when laughs the curved sharpness of his jaw, the points of his teeth show. That smile used to knock her panties off, and now she wishes Josie were here with one of her patent fireballs to singe that smile off his face.</p><p>“Your boyfriend?” A bark of laughter, loud and derisive. “Tis?”</p><p>Lizzie lifts her nose high in the air. “Tis. Jealous?”</p><p>“Why Elizabeth,” Sebastian deftly plucks the hand that had been in Landon’s, and lifts it to his lips. He brushes her knuckles with a kiss so soft she almost can’t feel it, and has to fight the shivers from breaking through her cold bitch veneer. “It was not so long ago that I had you trembling for hours beneath me. I don’t fault you for your need to take a break and…” he looks her up and down, “comport yourself.”</p><p>She flushes, mouth parting wordlessly. He always had no problem hiding how much he wanted her, did he?</p><p>Landon’s jaw clenches. Lizzie knows he’s absolutely no match against her past expiry-date ex, but she’s quietly impressed with the way he doesn’t flinch at Sebastian’s below-the-belt comments.</p><p>The sleeve of her jacket that’s still pressed against his side hums strangely; she doesn’t even have to siphon him to know something was stirring under his skin.</p><p>And yet, all Landon says is: “Watch yourself.”</p><p>“This bleached rag who fancies himself your saviour,” Sebastian doesn’t even bother looking at Landon when he addresses him. He’s started rubbing slow, tantalising circles on the back of her hand. “You cannot tell me you are blind to the fact he lacks the dexterity to please you?”</p><p>Quick as anything he’s back to kissing her knuckles, but this time it’s wetter. It lingers.</p><p>Lizzie swallows down her retch with difficulty and wrenches her hand back, but Sebastian is faster, stronger. His grip tightens. She’s not sure what she’s about to do: a smackdown of verbal assault? Maybe a hex involving tentacles shooting out of his stupid, smirking, beautiful face?</p><p>It turns out she doesn’t have to do anything, because Landon steps heavily between them and shoves Sebastian’s shoulder, hard.</p><p>Landon.</p><p>Shoving Sebastian’s shoulder.</p><p>“Get your fucking hands off her.”</p><p><em>Whew, boy</em>.</p><p>Her eyebrows shoot up. She has to pinch herself to make sure this isn’t a dream.</p><p>It must shock Sebastian too, though it doesn’t show on his face. His hold slackens, and Lizzie takes advantage of his distraction to pull her shaking hand back and clamps it down firmly at her side.</p><p>Sebastian recovers quickly enough and appraises Landon with new eyes. “Well, well.”</p><p>Lizzie’s mouth turns to cotton. She recognises that tone. She’s suffered through Thanksgiving with Uncle Damon’s unpredictable violence whenever Uncle Kol shows up and decides to flirt with Aunt Bonnie.</p><p>Someone’s going to get their neck broken.</p><p>“If you’re done posturing,” she tells Sebastian with as much venom as she can muster, “we have a future that doesn’t involve dessication to return to. Let’s go, Landon.”</p><p>“Do you have a death wish, boy?” There’s a threat in the smooth gullet of Sebastian’s voice.</p><p>Vampires, never really subtle ya know?</p><p>She’s not going to like, throw a wet blanket over Landon’s uncommon show of boldness, but she bites back her demand for him to step back and wills him not to give in to Sebastian’s taunt. Lover of petty drama that she is, she’s not sure Landon can resurrect a missing limb.</p><p><em>Although</em>, muses the part of her brain that just refuses to shut up, <em>Landon standing up for you would make your whole fake-dating ruse extra convincing.</em></p><p><em>I mean—</em>Landon already looks the part of possessive boyfriend right now</p><p>She imagines sitting by his bedside in the hospital wing as everyone preens about his epic love for her. She imagines Mom thanking him for his valiant rescue of her <em>favourite </em>daughter. She imagines Alaric nodding approvingly at her, <em>You’re in good hands, my beautiful angelic buttercup. I will no longer totally cramp your style with my dictator ways</em>. She imagines even Professor M agreeing, albeit begrudgingly. She imagines them no longer looking at her so lovingly, yet so <em>carefully –</em> like she’s made of glass. Sweet freedom.</p><p>But then the voice that sounds annoyingly like Josie is tutting reproachfully, and she has to admit conscience-Josie is right. This isn’t just petty drama.</p><p>She sighs, and decides to let herself freaking rise.</p><p>Her hands itch to pull Landon back.</p><p>She doesn’t realise she’s threaded her fingers through Landon’s and tugging ever so lightly.</p><p>The way Landon can so easily give up an opportunity to gloat to look at her makes her almost forget whatever he’d said yesterday. He tilts his head at her.</p><p>“Pump the breaks, hero hair,” she says quietly.</p><p>All he does is squeeze her hand, just a little bit.</p><p>Turning back to Sebastian, he says, “I could always come back to life.” He sizes the vampire up. “Could you?”</p><p>That does it.</p><p>Lizzie has never seen the bravado fall away from Sebastian’s face so magnificently.</p><p>“Those are fighting words, well and true, shrivelled mushrump!” Sebastian hisses through his fangs, charging towards Landon with a force that would have had her fake boyfriend on his back thirty feet away—</p><p>—if Landon hadn’t suddenly grown <em>wings of fire </em>and like, <em>lifted off into the sky</em>.</p><p>“Holy fucking <em>shit!</em>” someone gasps. “This is going on my story!”</p><p>The sudden blazing fire scorches Sebastian’s sleeves in the process, but Lizzie barely notices. Her jaw slackens, her eyes widen, her neck cranes back, and a cry catches in her throat at the way the air around them is sparking.</p><p>She lifts a hand to catch the cinders that float down to them in her palm. Everything is lit up around her in flecks of gold, yellow, orange and red, glowing up the grass and catching in the trees. Landon beats his great wings, a look on his face so intense; she’s never seen him this way before.</p><p>It’s an absolute sight.</p><p>Her hair whips around them as he swoops down at Sebastian, who flashes away cursing.</p><p>“I can do this all day, Seb!” Landon calls.</p><p>Lizzie has to stop herself from biting her knuckles and going <em>Ohhhhh. </em>Landon’s being a total badass right now, which was uncharacteristically hot, she had to admit, and— she sucks in a breath, because <em>what?</em> “I’m being punk’d now, right?”</p><p>“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean,” Sebastian says. “Normally I would stay to unravel those strange thoughts of yours, but it appears you’re being courted with a man more tenacious than I.”</p><p>“Ashton?” she yells to the spaces around her, paying Sebastian absolutely no mind.</p><p>That seemed even more insulting to him than Landon randomly swooping down and flicking his ears.</p><p>“This isn’t over,” he warns, and then he’s gone.</p><p>Lizzie looks up at Landon, who suddenly looks like he doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He’s Ewok-obsessed Landon again, despite the ancient magic roaring and curling in the air around him.</p><p><em>Figures</em>, she scoffs to herself.</p><p>“Am I forgiven yet?” he asks uncertainly.</p><p>“Depends. Can I roast a marshmallow on one of your wings?”</p><p>Landon rolls his eyes and descends.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>—</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Nice wings, Falcon,” Penelope gives a rare praise, showing him the screen of her phone. It’s a picture of him, shooting straight down, and Sebastian looking like he’s rethinking some of his life choices with the way his eyes reflect the fiery glow of his wings. “This is the most likes I’ve ever gotten on a post.”</p><p>“That was so dope,” Kaleb slaps his back. “Think you could give me a ride sometimes?”</p><p>“Thanks for being there for Lizzie,” Josie says seriously. Her chicken salad, much like everyone else’s lunch, is ignored in favour of rehashing the morning’s events. “Sebastian didn’t really take the breakup well.”</p><p>Hope is studying him in a way she never has before, and he tries not to let the heat he feels creeping up his neck show on his face. He tries to come up with something cool to say. <em>Anything for my girlfriend</em>? <em>I showed him, didn’t I</em>? <em>You know it, baby.</em></p><p>He grimaces.</p><p>“That’s my boyfriend,” Lizzie croons, emphasis on <em>boyfriend</em>. She’s sitting much closer to him than she normally would, but she’s always been super method so that doesn’t surprise him much.</p><p>He was, however, surprised that even after all of <em>That</em> this morning, when they arrived at the library – “Late!” Dorian chastises, unimpressed – Lizzie barely looks at him. She goes to the far end of the library and starts re-shelving books aggressively. He’d have tried to talk to Lizzie again, but Dorian tasks him with reorganising the tagging system of the library’s online portal and that takes half the morning. He only looks up when the first bell rings, but Lizzie was already gone.</p><p>It takes longer to get to class than it usually would, because he has to stop for quick – get this – <em>conversations</em>, with people who <em>aren’t</em> his friends, every so often.</p><p>“Hey, look, I gotta get to class,” Landon excuses himself, not before raising giving a hasty nod of acknowledgment when someone yells out <em>Yo Birdman!</em></p><p>Is this why Lizzie is always fashionably late?</p><p>He slips into his seat behind Lizzie not a second too soon, because Ms. Bennet notoriously hates tardiness.</p><p>He forces his eyes away from Lizzie’s immaculate golden curls to focus on the day’s lesson.</p><p>“Let’s take a look at how the early modern period in Europe affected the production of grimoires,” she begins without preamble. She waves her hands and the words <em>Late 15<sup>th</sup> Century </em>appeared on the blackboard. “If you read pages 65 to 71 as I instructed last week, you should be able to tell me what those events were.”</p><p>Hands shoot up as soon as she finished speaking.</p><p>“Josie,” Ms Bennet says with a nod.</p><p>“The Protestant Reformation and subsequent Catholic Counter-Reformation, the, um, witch-hunts, and the advent of printing?”</p><p>“Are you asking or telling me?”</p><p>“Telling you,” Josie says more firmly.</p><p>“That’s correct. The Renaissance saw the continuation of interest in magic of the Medieval period, and in this period, there was an increased interest in Hermeticism among occultists and ceremonial magicians too…”</p><p>Landon feels a flash of guilt but ignores it as he tears off a paper from his notebook as discreetly as he can, scribbles <em>Are you okay? </em>and waits for Ms. Bennett to fiddle with the projector before prodding Lizzie’s shoulder with the folded-up note.</p><p>She glares at him but snatches it up anyway.</p><p>A moment later words start appearing on the page in his notebook.</p><p>
  <em>Quit it, neck-breather. </em>
</p><p>Landon stares down at it, unsure of how to respond. He picks up his pen, hesitates, before writing down <em>Can you see what I’m writing? </em>underneath her message.</p><p>It doesn’t take long another line to show up.</p><p>
  <em>Can you see me rolling my eyes?</em>
</p><p>He chuckles silently. What else had he been expecting?</p><p>Landon looks up abruptly when Ms. Bennett calls his name. “Landon, could you tell us why despite the advent of print, handwritten grimoires remained highly valued?”</p><p>He barely hears himself give his answer, but Ms. Bennett looks satisfied and moved on. His eyes flick down to his notebook, but there’s nothing else from Lizzie. Belatedly, he realises he hasn’t given her a reply.</p><p>
  <em>Are we okay? </em>
</p><p>A second passes.</p><p>Then two.</p><p>And then—<em> Careful, your clingy is showing. </em></p><p>Landon frowns. He isn’t sure why Lizzie is being so combative, but he’s got a vague idea. He recalls the way she’d looked at him yesterday at the docks. Lizzie would like to think herself untouchable, but her eyes were her biggest giveaway. They said <em>so much</em>—fury, irritation, and some other things he usually only manages to see when she thinks she’s alone. A wash of hurt. She didn’t need to have her bones twisted to feel that way. It’s weird how she can face a horde of zombies no problem, but when it comes to the rest of her peers she puts up so much defense.</p><p>He sighs and scrawls, <em>I’m sorry</em>.</p><p>Hopes she understands the double meaning in it.</p><p>When she doesn’t respond, he adds, <em>If you’ve changed your mind about this fake dating thi</em></p><p>She doesn’t even let him finish his sentence before she responds. He can hear the force in which she’s writing.</p><p>
  <em>I DO NOT ENTERTAIN THREATS.</em>
</p><p><em>Lizzie, I’m just making sure we’re on the same page. You’re not talking to me</em>, he writes.</p><p>Lizzie volleys back, <em>Isn’t that the usual order of things?</em></p><p>
  <em>Not when I’m supposed to be your boyfriend?</em>
</p><p>Landon hears her huff. <em>There was nobody there to see.</em></p><p>
  <em>So you’re only nice to me when we’ve got an audience?</em>
</p><p>As soon as he writes that down he presses his lips together. It’s not like him to ask questions he already knows the answers to. He waits for a bit, completely disregarding whatever it is Ms. Bennet’s showing them on the projector. Lizzie doesn’t answer.</p><p>He’s just about to put his notebook away and turn his attention back to class, when he sees her writing.</p><p>
  <em>Is that any way to treat my knight in shining armour?</em>
</p><p>Unlike the rest of the messages, it’s the only one that disappears as soon as he finishes reading it.</p><p>Knowing Lizzie that’s as much as a <em>thank</em> <em>you</em> as he’ll ever get, but it still makes him smile anyway.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>—</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Lizzie finds him as soon as school ends. She barges into his room and yanks open the curtains, wrinkles her nose when she says she smells something ‘onion-y’, and shoos a bewildered looking Rafael out the door.</p><p>“Sorry, I have a sudden and <em>undeniable</em> need to lock lips with loverboy,” Lizzie tells him sweetly, and that’s all Rafael needs to hear to get the hell out of there.</p><p>Lizzie presses a finger to his shoulder and it glows. She uses her siphoned magic to cast some sort of spell around the room, and when he asks, she clicks her tongue and says, “Silencing spell.”</p><p>“That could’ve really come in handy yesterday, you know,” Landon tells her wryly.</p><p>“The point was to be <em>heard</em>, Landon.” She rolls her eyes.</p><p>“Yeah, by your mom! Who, at the most, would have just grounded you and given me a dressing down.” He grimaces, dying still fresh in his mind.</p><p>Lizzie shrugs like it was out of her hands. “We’re even now.”</p><p>Landon doesn’t ask her to clarify. He moves his guitar from his armchair to his bed and beckons her to sit in the emptied space. She does, but not before making a show of sanitising it with a little spray bottle she pulls from her bag.</p><p>He takes a seat on his bed, facing her. “What’s the silencing spell for?”</p><p>“We don’t want anyone overhearing Phase III, do we?” Lizzie asks.</p><p>Oh God. He should be scared, right? Phase II had ended up with him murdered. He studies Lizzie’s face. She has a serene, self-satisfied look set on her lips, but her eyes dance away to some inner monologue she’s probably having. Yeah, he should definitely be scared.</p><p>Except he’s not. He’s curious, even mildly excited.</p><p>He chalks it up to the lingering adrenaline of going up against Sebastian.</p><p>“Walk me through it,” he says, and Lizzie shoots him a pleased look. It occurs to him that she’s never looked at him that way before, and finds that it brings out a softness in her features. Where her eyes usually narrow at him with poorly-masked derision now regards him conspiratorially – a bit like an inside joke only the two of them are privy to. In a way the whole situation sort of is. If he can get past the guilt of lying to literally every single person he knows, he could probably laugh about it in five years.</p><p>He watches the way she licks her bottom lip before she clears her throat and makes a show of loosening her neck, eyes closed. “We’re walking through uncharted territory for you, so limber up.”</p><p>“Yes ma’am,” he says.</p><p>Lizzie seems to like it when he regards her an authoritative figure, and hey, if it makes her hold off on her colourful arsenal of insults, he’s definitely taking note of it.</p><p>“Phase III…” she pauses dramatically, and despite the trick he finds himself leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees. “…is us going Instagram official.”</p><p>She looks at him expectantly. Meaningfully.</p><p>He’s not sure what he’s supposed to say. He settles for the safest option. “Okay. So you’re going to post a picture or something?”</p><p>“You lack enthusiasm.”</p><p>“I mean…” he rubs the back of his neck. “We already went public, so I don’t see how a picture will change anyth—”</p><p>“Do you not understand the symbolism of it?” Lizzie sighs exasperatedly. “Fine, I’ll spell it out for you, nerd. We live in the age where our public personas are curated carefully, exactly, and precisely to our standards. It’s a precious ecosystem that we’ll be infiltrating, one that goes beyond likes and swipes. Us going Instagram public is a declaration of permanence, Landon. I am telling the world that <em>yes, </em>this artisanal jar of mayonnaise is in my life, and I regard him my <em>equal</em>.” She raises an eyebrow at him. “How many times have you ever seen me post a picture of someone that isn’t a tasteful shot of <em>moi?</em>”</p><p>“I don’t know,” he shrugs. “I don’t have Instagram.”</p><p>Lizzie stares at him. “What.”</p><p>“I don’t have Instagram.”</p><p>“Say that again.”</p><p>“I never saw the appeal of Insta—"</p><p>“I guess you’re very boomer-ly attached to Facebook?”</p><p>“Don’t have that either.”</p><p>Lizzie struggles to look composed. “How the hell do you talk to people?”</p><p>“I call them?”</p><p>“Who calls anyone anymore!” Lizzie swells up like a frog. “Are you one of the ten people who are <em>still </em>on Twitter or something?”</p><p>“What’s that?”</p><p>It’s a good thing the room’s spelled to secrecy, because Lizzie lets out a long and horrified scream.</p><p> </p><p>—</p><p> </p><p>Two hours, five sign-ups to various different social platforms and a thoroughly <em>exhausting </em>argument about usernames later which involves deep analysis (Lizzie) and disdain dismissal (Landon), he finds himself sighing over a new battle to fight.</p><p>There’s a snap and a flash, and he blinks away the dark spots that have started swimming in his vision. Lizzie scrutinises the photo she’s just taken, and promptly deletes it. Landon has to stop himself from tugging at his hair, because that’s probably the <em>thirtieth </em>photo she’s taken and she’s still not satisfied.</p><p>At the weariness on his face she casually informs him that she usually takes about two hundred photos.</p><p>Fucking kidding him, right?</p><p>He flops backwards onto his bed.</p><p>“Look, it’s simple, all we have to do is—<em>Landon are you looking.</em>”</p><p>Very grumpily, he props himself up on one elbow. She points a rigid finger at his laptop screen, where she’s built something she calls a ‘mood board’ on ‘Pinterest’ consisting of something ‘hashtag goals’ pictures of couples staring at each other, lost in their mutual adoring gazes. “Try not to look constipated this time?”</p><p>When Lizzie raises her camera again he visibly winces, and finds himself yearning for the simpler days of Phase II, dying and all.</p><p>“I don’t know what to do in pictures, okay?” he says defensively. “I’m rarely <em>in </em>any, and I don’t have any albums or anything; not like I had anyone to take my pictures growing up—” He snaps his mouth shut and looks down, busying himself with his wristwatch. He’s probably revealed a little too much about his childhood; probably weariness chipping away at him.</p><p>“Stay still.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>Another flash goes off before he even has time to look at her. Lizzie tilts her head at him from behind her phone, her face devoid of her previous glare. She thins her lips. “Work with me here, Kirby.”</p><p>“How does one ‘work’ in pictures?” he grumbles.</p><p>“God, virgin much? Fine, practice on me. I’ll demonstrate.” She sighs like he’s the one asking so much of her. Without further ado she arranges herself artfully on his windowsill. Neck long, feet pointed. Fingers wrapped delicately around one knee.</p><p>Landon has a feeling she’s waiting for him to do something.</p><p>“Your <em>camera</em>. Use it. Take my picture.”</p><p>“Oh. Right.” He pulls his phone from his pocket and studies his screen for a bit, tilts it this way and that. Takes his time long enough for Lizzie to stop looking like she’s trying to read his mind (it’s called <em>smizing</em>, Caveman) and melts out of her carefully-arranged pose. “Okay, got it.”</p><p>She throws him a thoroughly <em>done </em>look and stomps over to him. “That’s it? You took <em>one </em>photo?”</p><p>“I think it’s perfect,” he says, extending his phone to her which she bats away. “Don’t you want to look at it?”</p><p>“No,” she says, giving him another fake ass smile. “Knowing your troll eyes, you probably got my angles all wrong”</p><p>He shrugs and pockets his phone again, <em>suit yourself</em>. “Well, my troll eyes thought you looked beautiful in the lighting.”</p><p>Lizzie rolls her eyes for what must be the 18<sup>th</sup> time in the hour alone. Then a lightbulb seems to light up over her head. Landon finally knows that it’s possible for a human being to do an impression of a exclamation point.</p><p>She crawls onto his bed.</p><p>He chokes. “Lizzie, what—?”</p><p>“<em>Relax</em>, hobbit,” she soothes, decidedly un-Lizzie-like, and settles in comfortable next to him. She rests her head on the same pillow he’s using and puts a hand on his chest. Something he’s always just registered as part of the background suddenly invades his senses. The smell of her shampoo, fresh and bright like a spring morning, post-rain. The soft pad of her forefinger against the skin of his chest, just above his button. The weight of her chin on his shoulder.</p><p>What strikes him the most is that it’s not unfamiliar. They’ve hidden from enough monsters in tight enclosed spaces for him to be acquainted with the perfume of her, and they’ve collided in a pile of tangled limbs outrunning evils in the dark forest more times than he can count. It’s just never been at the forefront of his mind. Now that it is, he can’t seem to… not want to smell her. More of her. There’s nothing particularly unique about how Lizzie smells. It’s just… really nice.</p><p>He never thought he’d associate <em>nice </em>with Lizzie Saltzman.</p><p>He never thought he’d find himself wanting to turn his nose into her nec…</p><p>Lizzie is staring at him curiously. Probably because—</p><p><em>He’d </em>been staring at her first.</p><p>Mouth hanging open.</p><p>Like a dumbass.</p><p>But he can’t look away now, because while he’s caught himself in a competition of stare downs with her many times before, that’s all they’ve ever been. A glare, a scoff, a wrestle of power. This feels different.</p><p>It kind of felt really—</p><p>A flash.</p><p>He blinks.</p><p>Before he knows it Lizzie sits up, completely engrossed in analysing every angle of the photo, zooming here and there. “I think we have a winner.”</p><p>She texts him the picture and gives him very specific instructions on what time to post it tonight and spends about thirty minutes coming up with the perfect caption. He barely listens.</p><p>After dinner when he’s back in his room he dutifully carries out his part of Phase III. He deliberates the photo, staring at it impassively. Making up his mind, he posts it before his guts catches up to him.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>—</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Lizzie’s phone dings where it is on the bed and she pounces for it, causing enough commotion for Josie to look up from mindlessly strumming her ukulele.</p><p>Her twin smiles knowingly. “A message from Landon?”</p><p>Lizzie finds that she has to actively fight the blush that’s warming up her cheeks and turns away from her sister, resting her back against her headboard. As usual, Landon’s message is short and functional.</p><p>
  <em>Posted.</em>
</p><p>Anticipation swelling inside her, she quickly switches from the messaging app to Instagram and types in his username he’d warily agreed to, heart bouncing around in her chest at another plan come to completion, until she sees the actual photo and hears something akin to the sound of cars screeching to a stop before impending wreckage.</p><p>The bird had <em>one freaking job—</em></p><p>Before she can get too caught up in her emotions she grits her teeth and recalls what Dr. Hassan had said from her sessions with him – <em>centre yourself, breathe, centre yourself, look at the situation with objective eyes, list down the facts…</em></p><p>She opens her eyes. The facts were these:</p>
<ol>
<li>The photo Landon had posted was an open act of treason.</li>
<li>It wasn’t the photo they had agreed to post; not the one of them in his bed looking very couple-y and very #relationshipgoals</li>
<li>It was a photo of her, alone</li>
<li>The one that was supposed to remain a practice shot</li>
<li>There was no caption (!!!)</li>
<li>It was black and white</li>
<li>She was looking straight into the camera, like she was waiting for an answer to a question she’s just asked</li>
<li>He’d taken it from an angle that made the light streaming in through the window frame her hair in a faint halo</li>
<li>Her face was half eclipsed in shadows</li>
<li>It was probably the only truly candid photo anyone’s ever taken of her</li>
<li>It wasn’t… bad.</li>
</ol><p>She purses her lips.</p><p>Deletes the tirade of angry, creative insults to Landon and leaves his message without a reply.</p><p>Thumbing back to her photo gallery, she looks at the photo of the two of them on his bed. Sure, she had been working it like she was on America’s Next Top Model, but there was something minutely soft in the way she was looking at him, something she hadn’t expected to see now that she’s looking at the picture with objective eyes. Probably because there was something soft in the way he was looking at her. It’s strange, because it’s not even a foreign look on him. She wonders why.</p><p>Chewing on the inside of her cheek, she catalogues the fact that there was something about the picture that made even her feel like an intruder. Intruding on a private moment. Of <em>herself</em>.</p><p>“Cut the crap,” she murmurs to herself. If Landon wasn’t going to play by the rules, one of them should see Phase III through. It would have to be her, <em>yet again</em>.</p><p>She’s already halfway typing out their agreed caption until her actions take on a mind of their own. She goes back to her photo gallery, scrolls through until she can find that photo she’d taken of Landon – on his rumpled sheets, guitar in view, looking down at his watch. There’s something guarded about his face, so different from the usual open welcome. He looks unreadable, which was the reason why she had had the sudden urge to immortalise the moment.</p><p><em>Mom would be so disappointed</em>, that voice pipes up again<em>, Forbes women plan. Forbes women follow <span class="u">through</span>.</em></p><p>Not this time, apparently. Fighting every single instinct screaming at her, she puts a black and white filter on the photo and uploads it. No caption.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>originally, the confrontation scene involved someone else entirely, but then sebastian knocked his grimy knuckles on my door and i had to let him into the story.<br/>also i am in the firm opinion that all the adults of legacies share one single braincell, and it's caroline's.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. underwater</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>well. we're here.</p><p>let me know what you think!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p>WHERE YOU CAST THOSE STONES YOU WEAR</p><p> </p><p>~</p><p> </p><p>PHASE IV</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>The thing that shocks Landon the most about fake dating Lizzie isn’t that it’s going well; the whole school believes they’re dating. It’s the fact that despite the whole school believing they’re dating… girls are still asking him out.</p><p>“It’s weird,” he says, eyes darting around to check if anyone’s listening to their conversation as they’re bent over their cauldrons. He hastily chops up some dried wormwood and tosses them into his potion. It splutters into a pale orange and sort of coughs up some funky-smelling bubbles. “Yesterday, Hope waved to me. She was actually waving to <em> me </em>- I checked behind me, Jed wasn’t there. And today she sat with me at lunch.”</p><p>Lizzie hums non-comitally as she chops up <em> her </em>wormwood into perfect inches and drops them by threes into her potion, which turns a brilliant gold, something sweet and inviting rolling out of it in heavy plumes.</p><p>“I mean, I’m pretty sure Hope’s not, she’s not a--” he stirs his potion as he increases the heat of the induction cooker, trying to get it into a thicker consistency. </p><p>“A homewrecker?” Lizzie suggests, cocking an eyebrow.</p><p>“<em> Yes </em>,” Landon says, frustrated, silently thanking her for him not having to say it. “She knows we’re together, everyone does! And yet…”</p><p>Landon gestures with his hands, something neither of them can really interpret. He looks at her hopefully. She rolls her eyes. When they feel Ms. Claire’s sharp gaze on them they immediately slouch over their cauldrons, feigning concentration.</p><p>“It’s an Alpha thing,” Lizzie tells him begrudgingly, without looking at him. “Her wolf senses someone strong coming into territory. Someone who exhibits the signs of a capable mate. You’re prime meat, Kirby, because I have you tucked into my little green basket.”</p><p>“Ignoring the fact that you just likened me to butcher cuts,” Landon frowns, “so, what? She’s into me, she’s not?”</p><p>“Wow, all <em> this </em>from a wave hello?” Lizzie measures out a tablespoon of powdered root of Asphodel and scatters it in a circular motion onto the surface of her potion. “I knew you were gonna get your unmentionables in a twist, but not this much.”</p><p>“She’s never shown any kind of interest before.”</p><p>“The social order of the pack has changed, my little bird,” she says sagely.</p><p>“The hell’s that supposed to mean? We’re not part of a pack.”</p><p>“Miss Emo Pants seems emotionally attached to us enough to consider us her pack. Plus, you exhibited physical strength and aggression when you squared up with Sebastian two weeks ago.”</p><p>“You seem to really know her.”</p><p>“She’s my step-sister,” Lizzie huffs impatiently. “And a full moon’s coming. Hope doesn’t realise it, but she’s totally wolfing out on you.”</p><p>Landon blinks. He tries to register this information. “And… and you knew this, when you planned all this? Why am I asking, of course you did. You plan every single curl that drops down your forehead.”</p><p>“My curls never drop down my forehead,” she tells him primly. “But yes, I did. Our exit plans are in place.”</p><p>“Hope’s not a door, Lizzie,” Landon chastises.</p><p>“Funny,” Lizzie shoots back, “neither am I, but you don’t seem to have a problem with me being one. Doorway to popularity, doorway to Hope, doorway to actually being an <em> interesting </em>human being--”</p><p>“Care to share your conversation with the rest of the class?”</p><p>Lizzie snaps her jaw shut and groans inwardly: Ms. Claire is standing before them with a stern, perfectly sculpted eyebrow raised. Landon shakes his head fervently, “Nope, we’re good.”</p><p>Landon shoots her a <em> look </em>before bending over his work. They don’t talk for the rest of the class, after which he leaves as soon as possible.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p> </p><p>—</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Which is stupid, because he’s not upset or anything. He thinks. It’s difficult to tell around Lizzie, she’s so mercurial - her whole family is! - he pauses. That’s probably unfair to Dr. Saltzman.</p><p>After he’s done pacing his room and ignoring all the new friends request notifications banging up his phone, he lays down on his bed and sighs into his pillow. </p><p>Raf doesn’t say anything as he gets ready for lacrosse practice, but he does nudge his knee into Landon’s shoulder as he passes his bed. “You good, man?”</p><p>“Women are complicated,” Landon groans.</p><p>“Lizzie, huh?” Raf makes a sound of understanding and Landon tries not to feel that twinge of - something - when he remembers that Raf’s been with Lizzie. Of course he’d understand. But no, that’s not it. Raf wouldn’t <em> really </em>get it, would he? He looks at Lizzie the way the rest of the school does. Face value, oh, Lizzie’s freaking out again.</p><p>Not the way he looks at Lizzie - and, great, when did the lines get drawn? But he lifts his head just a little anyway and looks at his friend, who shifts one bag strap to his other shoulder. “Do you wanna talk about it? I promise it’s not weird.”</p><p><em> I hadn’t asked if it was </em> , Landon thinks. He frowns, bothered by the sudden aggression. Swallow it down, Kirby. It’s Rafael, your <em> brother </em>. “If you’re sure.”</p><p>“I heard about your fight.”</p><p>“My what?” Landon props himself up on his elbows. “Explain.”</p><p>“Kiki told Dana told Alyssa told Penelope who texted in our secret group chat that Kiki saw you two getting into it in the back of potions class.”</p><p>Huh. Landon turns over, folding his arms behind his head. “It’s only half gossip, shockingly. How bad did it look?”</p><p>“Pretty bad. Kiki told Dana told Alyssa told Penelope--”</p><p>“Told you in your secret group chat, which she kicked me out of last month, go on,” Landon says impatiently. </p><p>“--that it looked like Lizzie’s face was really red and glowy. The way she gets when she’s super mad.”</p><p><em> Huh </em> . He hadn’t noticed when they were talking - <em> getting into it, apparently - </em> but thinking back, yeah, her cheeks were kinda flushed. And there was a cutting tone to her remarks, but he hadn’t noticed because the whole girls’ attraction thing was <em> wigging him out </em>.</p><p>He thought about the last thing she said before she whistled like a tea kettle. <em> Hope’s not a door. </em></p><p>The flash of her eyes. The flush of her cheeks. The clench of her jaw. <em> Neither am I </em>.</p><p>Landon grabs a pillow and tries to suffocate himself, groaning long and loud.</p><p>Raf takes that as his cue to leave.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>—</p><p> </p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>Mom is watching her every move through slits for eyes. Lizzie studiously ignores her, pretending to be preoccupied with pancakes, but it’s hard not to respond to the withering glare of a Forbes woman.</p><p>“Just ask,” Dad says, back to them, as he stirs his coffee at the counter.</p><p>“Best to get it over with,” Klaus agrees, not looking up from the article he’s reading on his tablet.</p><p>“<em> Yes </em>, mother,” Lizzie sighs. She puts down her fork, which was halfway to her mouth loaded with pancakes and cream. “What is it now?”</p><p>“You’ve been suspiciously well-behaved,” her mother says.</p><p>“Seriously, mom?” Lizzie sighs, not noticing Klaus hiding his smile, “I thought we agreed that you’d worry about normal parent things when you came back.”</p><p>“Are you okay?” comes the unexpectedly gentle question from her mother.</p><p>Lizzie balks. “Where did that come from?” </p><p>She looks around the room to her father and step-father. “An ambush. Well-played.”</p><p>“Honey,” Dad sighs. “It’s not like that. Look, we heard what happened with Sebastian--”</p><p>“That was <em> two </em> weeks ago, and he <em> mysteriously </em>hasn’t been seen since then--”</p><p>Dad and Klaus exchange a satisfied, grim nod.</p><p>“--so what’s the deal now? Shouldn’t you guys be bugging me about my <em> current </em>boyfriend?”</p><p>“As if he’s anything less of a threat to you,” Klaus snorts.</p><p>Lizzie’s mouth falls open. “You’re joking. Come on, you’ve seen him. He’s harmless - I’m in good hands! Hasn’t it occurred to you that maybe <em> that’s </em> why I’ve been,” she makes a face and air-quotes, “ <em> well-behaved </em>?”</p><p>“The day you let anybody reign you in,” Dad starts.</p><p>Mom interjects, “Much less a <em> man </em>.”</p><p>“I will eat my own hand,” Klaus promises.</p><p>“Don’t test him, he will,” Dad says warningly.</p><p>“It’s weird when all of you are on the same team,” Lizzie grumbles, and finally eats her pancakes so she can hide her smile.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p> </p><p>—</p><p> </p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>Pushing aside the fact that she never goes looking for trouble - who is she, Hope Mikaelson? - trouble always happens <em> to </em>her! -- it’s not that she’s gotten luckier recently. Truth was, yeah, she hadn’t been scheming anything because there seems to have been a reprieve from their Monster of the Week.</p><p>Also the fact that she hadn’t really been expecting a Monster of the Week at all. She’s been busy scheming, with <em> Landon </em>, and that has taken up all her attention. She tries to remember the last time she’d made MG cry, and is ashamed to realise that it was a whole month ago.</p><p>One would think she’d be using up all that time to make Landon cry instead. But she’d been… nicer towards him. Everyone had noticed, except Landon. At first it was annoying how Josie would nudge her, or when Hope would raise her eyebrows, impressed, when Lizzie would bite her tongue instead of give some snarky comeback whenever Landon speaks.</p><p>Then it became easier to slip into.</p><p>Except it totally made Landon take advantage of it. Just because she’s been recycling insults (she hasn’t managed to top <em> artisanal jar of mayonnaise </em> yet) he seemed to be acting <em> above his station </em>. </p><p>When she’s not staying at the dorms, he sidles up to her every morning with a coffee and croissant as she walks to school. </p><p>When they’re studying together, he hands her highlighters without having to ask which color she wanted - like he knows her coding system to heart.</p><p>When she barbs with him he barbs right back, and the smirk on his face completely makes her forget any response. She wants him to rear back, <em> Buddy, we’re not there yet </em>, but unfortunately, they are. They’re at the stage where she’s comfortable enough for him to insult her quirks, because -</p><p>she knows with him, he never really means it.</p><p>When they eat lunch and everyone’s packing up to go to their respective classes he’ll lean in and give her a kiss on her cheek, quick and chaste, like he’s not even thinking about it.</p><p>He’s really good at this fake dating thing.</p><p>It unsettles her. She’s the one who’s supposed to be calling all the shots.</p><p>He hadn’t even texted her last night, which, weird, because they were supposed to go over their new phase. He hadn’t spoken to her since potions yesterday, one of the few classes they overlap.</p><p>Lizzie’s step almost falters, and she forces herself to stop in the middle of the hall before she trips over something. She takes a deep breath and counts to three, and sure enough when she opens the door Landon is on her porch.</p><p>“Hey,” he offers.</p><p>“Hi,” she says shortly.</p><p>Landon moves to take her bag and she gives it to him without resistance. They’re halfway down the stone path before she asks, “Where’s my croissant?”</p><p>“You don’t need it anymore,” he says.</p><p>“Are you trying to say I’m getting fat?”</p><p>Where before he might splutter and defend himself, this new Landon just rolls his eyes. “You eat breakfast now, so I don’t have to worry about you going to class hungry.”</p><p>“...Oh.” She doesn’t know what to do with this information. “How do you know?”</p><p>Landon shrugs, giving her a smile.</p><p>It was kind of sweet. </p><p>She bristles, shaking herself. Picking up her pace, she doesn’t look back at him when she tells him to hurry up or he’ll make them late.</p><p>“Wait, Lizzie - ” He hastens to follow her.</p><p>That’s more like it.</p><p>“What?” she snaps.</p><p>Order.</p><p>“Could you slow down?”</p><p>She speeds up.</p><p>Control.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>—</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>She’s almost out of breath by the time she makes it to the library, stopping just short of running there. Landon enters behind her, looking rumpled and pissed off, and he doesn’t look at her <em> again </em>when he goes to his end of the library, and she hers.</p><p>She’s beginning to see Mom’s logic behind library duty.</p><p>She’d thought it easy enough at first, but maybe her mom knew she would silently go mad stacking books and flipping pages and fixing book sleeves, the same methodical thing over and over again.</p><p>And to have to do this, every morning and every evening, day in and day out until the semester ends was grating on her. Some days it was - admittedly - nice; she doesn’t always have classes with Landon so she doesn’t have to reshuffle her schedule around to meet up with him to talk about Their Next Step. That’s honestly it.</p><p>Most days the mundanity killed her.</p><p>She wished the next Monster of the Week would just show up already.</p><p>Even Hope (especially Hope) was getting restless in their little unexpected bout of peace, but far from integrating herself into normal school life like the rest of them had, she’d only trained harder, ran faster, working off her pent-up energy.</p><p>Lizzie sighs and shifts in her seat. She’s surrounded by books, and had been replacing their worn out tags for hours. Even the cushions adorning the long benches under the window hadn’t helped. It just reminds her that she wishes she was back in her bed, instead of leaning back against the library wall, alternating between staring at the clock and staring at the full moon through the window.</p><p>Tonight Klaus would take Hope and the other werewolves out into the woods for them to turn. Despite Aunt Bonnie’s reinforcing the woods so they wouldn’t escape, everyone had been given strict instructions, like every month, to stay indoors.</p><p>As usual Hope is the last to leave the library, and she smiles at Landon as she packs her things. Landon misses the page he’s turning, his fingers still going through the motion. </p><p>Lizzie snorts and turns away.</p><p>She’s … angry. But she doesn’t know who to direct her anger to.</p><p>It’s not like Landon can help it anyway.</p><p>And it wasn’t like Hope <em> knew </em>what she was doing, which is sort of hilarious.</p><p> Most powerful creature on earth and she still needs her PR work done by her step-sister.</p><p>Lizzie’s a natural cataloguer; she knows everyone’s business in school - or, almost everyone. Penelope’s still the top of that particular game. </p><p>Her point is, there’s very little that people can hide from her, mostly because she’s always looking out for the truth while hiding her own. It was easier that way, looking for what’s missing in others instead of what her therapist likes to call <em> inward reflection. </em></p><p>“Hey Lizzie.”</p><p>Lizzie looks up to see Hope holding out her hand. She takes it gratefully and straightens up with a groan, hearing her spine crack. </p><p>Hope laughs a little. “I see you’re getting used to library duty.”</p><p>“Is that what they’re calling <em> torture </em>these days?” Lizzie grumbles, stretching. “You and Josie missed breakfast this morning.”</p><p>“Yeah, she wanted me to help her work on a spell in the woods.”</p><p>Lizzie bites her lower lip. <em> That’s </em>what she should be doing. Practicing her magic, training like her sisters, growing stronger. Not gallivanting around School-ton with the Earl of the Grungesbury. </p><p>Hope tilts her head and hesitates, but decides to go ahead. “I can help you too, you know. We’ve got… we’ve got plenty of time.”</p><p>“Who’s counting?” Lizzie says brusquely. </p><p>“Lizzie, don’t be like this.”</p><p>“Don’t be like that? Refusing to plan my sister’s murder?”</p><p>“It’s not murder, Lizzie.” Hope starts. “It’s the merge.”</p><p>Lizzie brushes imaginary dust off her kneesocks. “Where one of us absorbs the other. Sounds right to me.”</p><p>Hope must know a lost cause when she sees one, so she tries to change the subject. “Did anything interesting happen at breakfast?”</p><p>That was her way of asking if Klaus and her dad were sparring to an audience of awestruck little boys in their garden, which wasn’t really that rare an occurence. </p><p>“Nope,” Lizzie says, popping the P, sliding into their sisterly facade easily. “They were all on the same team today, believe it or not. Team Bug Lizzie About Her Disastrous Life Choices.”</p><p>“You’d think they’d let up about Sebastian by now, with how happy you are with Landon.”</p><p>Lizzie freezes, and looks at Landon out of the corner of her eyes. Phoenixes don’t have super-hearing, but the library at closing time is the quietest it’ll ever be, and she and Hope weren’t exactly whispering.</p><p>Thankfully Hope misreads her reaction. “You don’t have to hide it, Lizzie. Happiness is a good look on you.”</p><p>Lizzie forces a laugh. “Remind me to tease <em> you </em> about it when you’ve finally picked the final contestant in <em> Who Wants to be Hope’s Mate?” </em></p><p>“Ted Danson better be hosting that.”</p><p>“You know he is.”</p><p>They giggle, and Hope tears her gaze from her to look at the clock. And groans. “Time to go. You know how my dad gets when I’m even a second late.”</p><p>She surprises her, her step-sister, when she comes in for a hug.</p><p>Hope isn’t the touchy kind. Lizzie most definitely isn’t the touchy kind.</p><p>Yet here they are, hugging.</p><p>Lizzie lets out a tension-weighed sigh, one she hasn’t known she’s been keeping in her chest, and breathes it all out into Hope’s shoulder. She grips her, and Hope grips her back tighter.</p><p>“It’ll all be over soon,” Hope whispers. “Don’t worry. We’ll get through this together.”</p><p>“What if they never forget all the stupid mistakes I’ve made?” Lizzie whispers back, allowing herself this one moment of vulnerability.</p><p>“Oh, they won’t,” Hope laughs quietly. “But that’s what family does, I guess. We hold each other accountable. And we’ll keep you safe.”</p><p>“Always and forever,” Lizzie murmurs their words, not exactly knowing when that had become their truth. All she remembers is it’s been part of her language since she was a kid. Dad looks uncomfortable sometimes when the words are evoked, but he feels the sentiment in his bones. She knows he must.</p><p>Hope gives Lizzie’s back one last rub before disentangling herself, and they share one last look before Hope leaves.</p><p>Lizzie goes back to tagging the books.</p><p>It’s ten o’clock when she next looks up. Landon walks through the maze of book shelves to find her at the back. “Do you wanna talk about it?”</p><p>She doesn’t bother denying there’s anything wrong. But she shakes her head. “No.”</p><p>“Do you wanna talk about what happened this morning, then?” He puts his backpack on the table before walking up to her. “You freaked out at me.”</p><p>Lizzie avoids his gaze. “Just family business.”</p><p>“Were they giving you a hard time about Sebastian again?”</p><p>Lizzie shuts her eyes. She really should never have told Landon anything.</p><p>“Why does it bother you so much when they bug you about him?” Landon continues his line of questions. “They bug you about me?”</p><p>“You’re easier to handle,” she says before she can quite stop herself.</p><p>There’s a long, pregnant pause. It was so long and so pregnant she was tempted to make a baby joke. Wrinkling her nose in distaste at her reaction, she turns to look at him.</p><p>Landon is staring at her, sizing her up.</p><p>She lifts her chin. “Problem?”</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p> </p><p>—</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“You’re easier to handle.”</p><p>Landon feels, for the first time, insulted.</p><p>Landon would never tell her, but her eyes are her biggest giveaway. </p><p>They say <em> so much </em>—fury, irritation, and some other things he usually only manages to see when she thinks she’s alone. A wash of hurt. </p><p>She didn’t need to have her bones twisted to feel that way. It’s weird, how she can face a horde of zombies no problem, but when it comes to the rest of her peers she puts up so much defense.</p><p>He sticks his hands in his pockets and leans back on the balls of his feet. He’s not that much taller than Lizzie - Lizzie towers over everybody - so he needs to get some perspective. He studies the way she’s struggling to maintain eye contact. Lizzie never has a problem staring anybody down.</p><p>“What’s really going on, Lizzie?”</p><p>“As if you have any right to ask,” Lizzie snorts.</p><p>“Bullshit. I do. You said so yourself - we have to be a finely-tuned machine with this dumb plan of yours. Any mistake on <em> my </em>part, as you so like to emphasise, would mean fucking everything up.”</p><p>Lizzie’s eyes widen at the coarseness of his tone. Good. At least she’s paying attention.</p><p>“You’ve been <em> so </em>defensive recently. I don’t get it. People think we’re fighting.”</p><p>“Congratulations,” she says scathingly, “you’re finally part of school gossip that doesn’t involve you being egged.”</p><p>She turns away from him to go deeper into the maze of shelves, but Landon catches her wrist. “No, you don’t get to do that. Talk to me, Lizzie. What’s up?”</p><p>“<em> What’s up? </em>” she sneers. “And they say age doesn’t matter in men.”</p><p>“Don’t compare me to Sebastian,” he says, and the heat in his own face surprises him. He fucking hates that guy. “I’d never gaslight you the way he did.”</p><p>“Can everybody just stop <em> talking </em>about him!” Lizzie shakes him off, backing away, but he only follows, determined to get to the truth of her. “I am more than my lay of the month!”</p><p>“Stop that,” he snaps. “You <em> know </em>I don’t mean it like that.”</p><p>“I know you, Patron Saint of America’s Saddest Home Videos, seriously don’t <em> mean </em> to start <em> anything </em>with me right now,” she says. Her eyes flash dangerously. “Just try me.”</p><p>He steps closer. “Maybe I will.”</p><p>Lizzie, to nobody’s surprise, stands her ground.</p><p>“You’re not a door, Lizzie.” His voice isn’t his anymore. He doesn’t recognize it.</p><p>“Glad to see you have eyes,” Lizzie says. Her voice isn’t hers anymore either. It probably has something to do with how close they’re standing.</p><p>“You’re not even a stepping stone, or a one-way ticket to Starville, like you said. You’re you, and I’m me, and we’re… helping each other out in a tough situation. We are a <em> team </em>.” He stresses. “And that means it’s just you and me, until we both decide otherwise.”</p><p>“So confident,” she breathes, “thinking you have any kind of say.”</p><p>“Of course I do,” he says simply. “You chose me, didn’t you? You could’ve gone with MG. You didn’t. It’s because nobody sees you the way I see you.”</p><p>Lizzie blanches. “Get the fuck away from me.”</p><p>He doesn’t. He’s probably toeing some line here - screw it, he’s crossing it. “This may just be some fake dating thing, but my principals still stand. Until anything changes, I’m all yours.”</p><p>Lizzie blinks her eyes furiously, glancing over his shoulder presumably for exit strategies. Sometimes she can be really predictable. Well, she must have found none, because she looks back at his mouth, then at him. “Why are you saying this?”</p><p>“I’m saying this so you don’t get weird about Hope again.”</p><p>She gapes at him.</p><p>She looks truly arrested.</p><p>“How-” she says lowly, “<em> dare- </em>” she clenches her hands into fists, “-you.”</p><p>He doesn’t shrink at her anger, he won’t. “You don’t really hide it all that well.”</p><p>“Listen up, My Chemical Romance--”</p><p>“No, <em> you </em>listen up, Lizzie--”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>—</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>Great. </p><p>Just when Landon finally grows a spine, she’s missing hers. </p><p>She refuses to let herself look cowed: she looks right at him without so much as a gulp, despite her toes curling in her ankle boots.</p><p>“You think you can just hide what you really feel? Make me feel like shit so you don’t?” Landon’s eyes narrow.</p><p>Lizzie is clearly about to retort but he steps right into her space—she’s a bit stunned, but she makes sure not to wear it on her face. She just matches him stare for stare, her back pressed against book spines and dusty shelves.</p><p>“<em> Oh </em> the sorrows of Young Werther,” Lizzie spits. She scrabbles for her last vestiges of control, but Landon, for once, isn’t hanging onto every word she’s saying. It’s her now, in this fucking awful turn of events.</p><p>And when had he braced his arms around her, his hands gripping onto the shelf? She’s pissed him off, that’s for sure, and – okay, maybe she’s a little impressed despite the tension banging between them.</p><p>“I can see right through you, Lizzie. You’re an open book. I could read you for hours.”</p><p>“Read <em> this </em> ,” she breathes into his mouth, scathingly, and with a flash the ribbon around her neck is pulled off and shoved into the front pocket of his shirt. Landon does her one better: In one swift step he’s even <em> closer </em> now, pressing one hand on her hip and the other <em> over her mouth </em>.</p><p>“Maybe now you’ll finally shut up,” he breathes, decidedly un-Landon like, and Lizzie doesn’t know why it’s making her so dizzy. She can’t feel her knees, but it’s okay, because Landon is holding her up. Without realising her own fingers are clawed at his shoulders.</p><p>“So, what now? You throw around your empty threats? Make me shake at the knees?” she asks scathingly when she manages to wrench her mouth away from his hand. </p><p>“No one ever hurts you unless you let them, Liz,” Landon says, and <em> God </em>, when did he get so confident? </p><p>Her breath climbs in her throat as he leans closer.</p><p>“I don’t <em> let </em>—”</p><p>“I’d never hurt you.”</p><p>Landon looks into her eyes, and his gaze <em> holds. </em> </p><p>“You don’t have it in you,” Lizzie says, belatedly. She doesn’t mean it in a nice way.</p><p>Landon doesn’t seem to care because he kisses her— </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>—</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Hm.</p><p>Ah.</p><p>Well, shit.</p><p>Landon sure can kiss.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>—</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>He sweeps his hand into her hair, curves down the back of her neck, covers her collarbones. He’s warm (he’s a phoenix<em> , </em> he <em> burns </em>), and she’s pretty sure he’s kissing him back, which is insane because Cupid’s long been defeated.</p><p>Lizzie panics, because Landon can kiss, and she’s actively kissing him back. Not a little peck, but a big one. No gun to her head. No one’s even there to <em> see </em>. </p><p>He uses a single finger to tilt her head the way he wants, and their mouths fit together even better this way. There is definitely a lick of his tongue against her lower lip, and she breathes unevenly when he lets out a strangled sound.</p><p>Her mouth parts and it’s not possible, but he sinks further into her, all tongue and grunts and hands.</p><p>Oh wow, Landon can kiss. Landon can <em> kiss </em>and she keeps repeating the same shocking revelation over and over again like a mantra. She can’t help thinking that Hope is missing out big time, before feeling a wave of embarrassment wash over her for even thinki—</p><p>His knee nudges its way between her legs, and sweet fucking Lord—she pulls away, gasping for breath.</p><p>“Who the <em> fuck </em>taught you to kiss like that?” She’s flustered, she tries to pull away but there’s nowhere to go. She’s backed up against the shelf and she feels truly out of her element.</p><p>Landon doesn’t even know what he’s doing. He’s just looking at her in that way he always does, a mixture of concern, bemusement, exasperation. </p><p>“I’ve read books,” he rolls his eyes, and she doesn’t know why his humour sits just right with her at that point, because she laughs.</p><p>“Have you?” she asks impishly. “I knew you were a secret erotica nerd.”</p><p>Landon visibly shifts at that word – <em> erotica </em> – and he moves his leg in such a way that Lizzie can’t help but grind down on it, biting her lower lip. “I’m not a nerd.”</p><p>Her voice drops considerably as she drags her eyes over his hair, messy from where her fingers had been. To his lips, wet. Just a tiny bit of affront in his eyes in spite of the bright spark of interest there. “Maybe I have a thing for nerds.”</p><p>His eyes drop to her mouth.</p><p>She wets her lips.</p><p>He leans down, so they’re nose to nose.</p><p>“You don’t have to lie to get me to make out with you,” he mumbles against her lips, before giving her another bruising kiss.</p><p>She sort of loses track of the time and the many little ways Landon rips a sigh from her, until she’s pinned desperately - might as well be underneath him, with the way he moves against her. Her buttons are half undone, and he’s got her nose in between her boobs.</p><p>And she’s panting.</p><p>Yup, this is her life now.</p><p>She really shouldn’t have worn a skirt today, because it gives him easy access to trace his hand up her thighs, stopping just shy of her panties.</p><p>Or would have, if she’d worn any. What? The smell of pancakes had pulled her out of her room before she had time to, <em> alright?  </em></p><p>“Lizzie,” he groans. “Fuck, you’re such a minx.”</p><p>“Don’t know what you mean,” she says breathlessly, using her hands to shove his mouth where she wants it. He bites down on her breast, over her bra, and she sees sparks. White hot. “You do realise I’m going to fulfil your biggest nerd kink ever probably. We’re going to do it in the <em> library </em>.”</p><p>Landon chuckles over the disgust in her voice. “Like you’re not turned on.”</p><p>“I’m not.”</p><p>“Also, who said anything about doing?”</p><p>Lizzie somehow manages to find it in herself to wrench his head away and glare down at him. “We’re already here, so why not.”</p><p>“Yeah, your indifference is <em> so </em>convincing right now…” and he goes right back to licking a wet stripe up her sternum, all the way to her collarbone, all the while his fingers traces light, electric circles around her clit. Really, she should’ve used her ribbon to gag him, shut his nerd mouth up. </p><p>“Landon,” she warns him; tries to inject venom into her voice despite having had forgotten how to breathe.</p><p>His hand stills. He suddenly seems to remember where he is, where his finger nearly went, where his tongue is: on her earlobe, and she feels a panic rising, because she realises she doesn’t want him to stop.</p><p>That the loss of his touch felt like an invisible force slamming into her, unpleasant and wrong.</p><p>She digs her nails into the back of his neck, forces him to look at her, and says: “Don’t stop.”</p><p>There’s only a slight hesitation on both their parts, a frantic locking of eyes, the strange unbidden haze broken ever so sharply by the question in his eyes, <em> Are you sure?  </em></p><p>She recognises that look – that looming regret just over the corner, should she choose to actually use her brain (her smart, beautiful, cunning, <em> missing </em> brain!) and pump the breaks. His eyes are so <em> clear </em>, so blue, she’s never really realised how blue—</p><p>She nods.</p><p>He slips a finger inside her.</p><p>Her eyes shut, her breath shudders out of her.</p><p>“I thought you were a virgin,” she can’t help but gasp.</p><p>“Not that it’s any of your business,” he says sharply; he’s pleased to note that he sounds just as breathless as her, “but I’m not.”</p><p>“Shame. Would’ve loved training you.”</p><p>“Doesn’t mean you still can’t,” he grins, and slides another finger in, and she unwittingly clenches around them. “Lizzie, fuck — I’m not as experienced as, say, <em> Raf </em> —” he slides another finger in, but it’s not the sudden fullness that makes her feel so scandalised, it’s the fact that he’s going <em> there </em>.</p><p>“Jealous?” she smirks, grinding down onto his fingers. “It’s a good look on you.”</p><p>“My fingers inside you is a good look on you,” he retorts. “Want another one?”</p><p>“I’m good,” she gasps, her head falling back heavily against a book.</p><p>“Good,” he says, giving her a quick kiss on the lips. “Do you want to come?”</p><p>He presses a thumb against her clit. It slips with how wet she is, but he doesn’t comment on that, because he’s a freaking gentleman apparently. His forehead falls against the dip of her neck, his eyes shut, and he lets out a long, wrought-out groan.</p><p>The back of her shirt is damp, and she’s scratching up his heaving back, her thighs a mess around him. Every so often the bulge in his pants thrusts against the inside of her thigh like he can’t help it and she shivers every time it happens. There’s that crash she feels about to come, rising and rising so steadily, and it triples when he turns his head to tongue her bra aside and bite her nipple.</p><p>“<em> Inside </em>,” she grits, and pushes him away just far enough to grab at his belt, undoing his jeans in one swift motion. He’s hard and ready and waiting for permission, and when the length of him presses against her they both inhale sharply. </p><p>The breaths that they release warm up each other’s faces and their eyes can’t seem to stop watching each other, when he pushes into her. Sweat breaks out all over her body when he goes in all the way, filling her up in a way that’s unexpectedly thrilling.</p><p>“<em> Oh </em>.”</p><p>“<em> Lizzie </em>,” he breathes.</p><p>It’s hard to stay silent, but they somehow succeed. His wet breath licks up her cheek. She plunges her tongue into his mouth just to stop him looking at her like that- not in any performative sort of way, but something real. Something sturdy she can hold on to.</p><p>She laves her tongue over his in a languid, slow motion, and the whine she swallows from him is low and guttural. The worst part is she moans right back, and his thrusts become more erratic, where before she could feel every slide and grind of him. She cries out when he hits that spot she absolutely loves. As though spurned by it, he picks up the pace, he bites down on her lower lip, he whispers her name again.</p><p>“Yes,” she answers unthinkingly. “Yes.”</p><p>“You’re really beautiful, you know that?” He kisses around her lips, her nose, her forehead, her eyelids, anywhere he can get. “Really.”</p><p>Usually she’d say something obnoxious like <em> Take a picture, it’ll last longer </em>or whatever, but his next thrust has her clenching down on him and the thought goes forgotten. She urges him on, presses her fingers into his ass, and wraps her legs around him. She’s surprised he’s strong enough to hold her up, still. It helps that there’s absolutely zero distance between them, and the shelf is doing most of the work with the way it’s creaking, but they’ve been kissing for a while if the silence of the school is anything to go by.</p><p>Her back hits the shelf once again, and some books fall. </p><p>She grunts out his name, just before the waves that had been building and building and building inside her breaks. She feels it bolting up her spine like molten gold. She bucks against him and sees white stars again.</p><p>Landon lets go too, and she feels him gush wetly inside her, deep and good. He doesn’t stop moving until both of their breaths calm, just a bit. And then they’re staring at each other again with an air of uncertainty. </p><p>“We screwed,” she says simply. Quietly.</p><p>“Yeah,” he says, suddenly not able to look into her eyes. He lowers her gingerly to her feet, helps her with straightening her cardigan. She doesn’t touch him. They finish dressing up silently, and she leaves him without even a last glance.</p><p>She doesn’t know why, but she hopes he’s looking at her as she walks away. </p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p> </p><p>—</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p> </p><p>“So do we talk about it, or…”</p><p>“Ignore it forever and pretend it never happened? Doesn’t that sound<em> a widdle mean </em>?” she baby voices at him. They’re lying on a blanket, the grass green and warm around them. The sun’s shining but not too much. It’s a perfect day to be studying outdoors, which she’s been pretending to do since they met for lunch if it means she gets to ignore him.</p><p>But of course Landon decides to make it difficult for her to pretend because he <em>hasn’t</em> <em>shut</em> <em>up</em> for twenty-five minutes.</p><p>There’s an unhappy furrow of his eyebrows. His organic chemistry notes have long been studied, and he’s sketching her in the margins of his notes. “We crossed some sort of line.”</p><p>Lizzie groans. She really doesn’t want to be doing this right now.</p><p>He chances a quick glance at her. “And you’re being all glowy about it.”</p><p>“What the hell are you talking about?” she snaps. “I’m not glowy.”</p><p>“You are.” He holds up his phone, where the front camera is on display. “Look.”</p><p>She does, reluctantly, and has to admit that the light reflecting off her cheekbones isn’t the sun, but resembles more the glow that comes when she’s siphoning magic. She blushes despite herself, and pink breaks through the gold. “So?”</p><p>“<em> So </em>,” Landon says, propping himself up on his elbows. A slow smile grows on his face, almost shy. “You liked it, what we did last night.”</p><p>Heat creeps further up her face, and she stares stubbornly down at her textbook. “Don’t get too ahead of yourself, pardner.”</p><p>Landon smirks. “Wow, never heard you mutter before.”</p><p>“You really want to do the whole ‘oh we had sex, woe is us’ talk right now? Can’t you just like, be cool about it?”</p><p>She glares.</p><p>He covers his laugh with a cough.</p><p>“Hey lovebirds!” Josie chirps and drops down between them. “You two are looking glowy.”</p><p>Lizzie snickers when Landon turns into a splotchy beetroot. Yeah, who doesn’t want to talk about it now?</p><p>“Oh you know how covalent bonds always gets us riled up,” Lizzie throws airily, nuzzling her head into Landon’s shoulder.</p><p>Josie rolls her eyes, but looks happy for her. That suspicious glint had left her eyes, and now she looks at them like she’s totally buying this whole Happy Lovebirds shtick. “Jed wants to have an Important Discussion about movie night. Told me to let you know that he totally, under no circumstances, very much <em> definitely </em>doesn’t want to watch Dirty Dancing again. He made me write it down in case I missed anything out.”</p><p>She shows them the note, and Lizzie’s forehead accidentally bumps into Landon’s and she completely forgets her prepared clapback.</p><p>“No class,” Landon says, and it surprises Lizzie, because she’d fully expected him to play macho about it and beat his chest like a gorilla over being subjected to such a film. “Is he going to beat his chest like a gorilla too?”</p><p>“You’re so whipped,” Josie sighs. “It’s cute. Anyway, it’s my turn to choose anyway. I’m feeling like a sticky, gory horror flick – Ari Aster? – since you’re being kind of vomit-inducing with your sweetness.”</p><p>Lizzie’s mouth drops. “Hey, you don’t get to talk smack about me, sister!”</p><p>Josie opts to ignore her twin and scrunches her nose at them adorably. “See you two later.”</p><p>Emphasis on the <em> you two </em>.</p><p>After she leaves, Landon keeps looking at her, like he’s feeling her out or something. If his hand creeps closer and closer to hers every time he flips a page, she doesn’t comment on it.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>—</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Hope’s already eating popcorn when they get to the Old Mill. Jed and Kaleb are arguing over projector settings with MG between them trying to placate, and Penelope is feeding Josie a twizzler. Hope sends Landon a grin, and Lizzie feels a weird kind of relief wash over her when Landon returns it unaffectedly, not twitching like he would before.</p><p>He guides her down onto the couch next to him like he isn’t even thinking about it, and she decides that she’s going to play it up by propping her legs in his lap. You know, if Professor M comes by to check on them before retiring for the night, so he and Mom can trade juicy bedtime gossip. </p><p>Definitely that.</p><p>Good thing, too, because he does indeed show up, smiling softly at Hope first before directing a more stern gaze at the rest of them. “No funny business. No moonshine. Yes, Kaleb, I am looking at you. No getting drunk on said moonshine and decorating Dorian’s door with whipped cream. No loud noises. And clean up after you’re done, or you’ll have nothing but drills in your Magical Defence classes the rest of the semester.”</p><p>“Aye aye, captain,” they all chorus as they do every time Professor M comes to amp up his Strict Headmaster routine.</p><p>“Good. Remember I am a thousand-year-old hybrid with thousand-year-old hybrid senses, and I will know if you so much as even breathe wrong.”</p><p>Hope sinks down into the couch, clearly embarrassed.</p><p>“Taken into consideration,” Kaleb puts his hand over his heart.</p><p>“I can be right back here before you can even <em> blink </em>.”</p><p>Hope shoots her dad a <em> look </em>, which he ignores.</p><p>“I’ll assume you’ve all passed basic comprehension and have understood my message clearly. I’ll take my leave then.” Klaus gives them all one last Dictator stare and he starts to clatter down the wooden steps back to the separate building where his quarters are.</p><p>“Say good night to Mom for us!” Josie calls after him, and they all whoop, holler and tease. For such a scary-looking retired serial killer, red looks good on the tips of his ears as Professor M rolls his eyes and leaves.</p><p>“<em> Juvenile </em>,” he can’t help but chide them, though, and after laughing at that they all settle in for the film.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>—</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Somewhere in the middle of the film, Landon wraps his fingers around hers, and she can’t find it in herself to let go since he’s really warm and she gets the chills easily at night, even if no one knows they’re holding hands underneath the blanket.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>please let me know what you think!</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>